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Gossip and soft facts
Mossgate and its surroundings are not only made up of places. They are also made up of people, communities, history, stories, and gossip.
Folkton and Moss Manor (the village)
Moss Manor is much younger than Folkton, but it also has a train stop and (at least when it was established in the late 1800s) was fairly industrialized while Folkton remained a farming and fishing community. Some of the more well-off families from Folkton moved to Moss Manor upon establishment.
...There is not a drop of good blood between the villages. Folkton are the backwards, uneducated country bumpkins, whereas the people from Moss Manor consist of posh toffs that are born with silver spoons in their mouths. (Technically, both villages historically are made up of very similar people. Just don't try to tell that to a local.) Football matches between the two villages almost always end in brawls, you just don't move onto the wrong side of the river (this extends to people that move to Mossgate - former Moss Manor residents stay on the eastern shore of the Moss, former Folkton residents stay on the western shore), when the kids meet for the first time in secondary school (neither village has one, so they have to commute to Mossgate), there are always spats during breaks. And so on.
Folkton's families
Folkton is largely (though not exclusively) made up of a handful of large extended families that have lived in this village for many generations. A number of villagers still live in multigenerational houses. Those from outside who successfully stay in the village usually marry into one of those families. In many of those families it's normal for whoever marries in to take the family's surname, no matter if they are male or female. These families include:
- the Oggs. Members include: Gytha
- the Saunders. Members include: Mary
- [if you wish to add a new large Folkton family, please make a statement to this end in your application and prod us if we don't add the family here in a timely manner]
Ghosts and other hauntings
As with most British towns, many ghost stories can be found around the Mossgate Echo Boundary. Of particular note are:
- Moss Manor is haunted by the Grey Lady.
- The high street and it's vicinity is supposedly haunted by two (groups of) ghosts: The first is a shy ghost with perfect manners who has approached many a drunk or lost soul late at night to tell them that they dropped their wallet, deliver a message to them, or simply point regulars to the nearby pubs into the direction of their home if they are too drunk to find it. By contrast the other ghosts that share her haunting spot are very rough looking and will approach people in a more or less threatening manner, demanding to know if they've seen their ship.
- The Roman Museum is supposedly haunted by the whole family that lived in the house that once stood in its spot.
- The ruins on the cliff are apparently the most haunted spot in the whole city (them being a popular spot to smoke weed, get drunk with your mates, or perform similar activities may have something to do with that). There have been sightings of, among other things: Jesus, the Holy Mary, talking mice and other talking animals, dancing pink elephants, Elvis, a monk, mermaids, knights, great feasts populated by ghosts, the Flying Dutchman and other ghost ships, Dick Turpin and other highwaymen, ghostly twin children and Joan d'Arc.
LGBTQ+
Mossgate has a lively LGBTQ+ community. There is a yearly Pride parade and a selection of LGBTQ+ clubs and bars. The community is spread out across all ages, though an unusually large amount of older LGBTQ+ folks, especially retirees, are active and visible in it, due to Mossgate having become a bit of a retirement village for those who tire of the high pace of life in Brighton and London.
Moss Manor (the manor) and the Brassant Family
Moss Manor (the manor) is a large Manor originally built in the Tudor period and famous for its barely altered great hall from that time, after the lands had been granted to the Brassant family by the crown after the War of the Roses. Part of it is touristy these days, but a part of it is closed to the public.
Some of the Brassant family - currently only Lady Margaret Camilla Brassant with a maid/carer and a butler/driver - still live full-time in the parts of the buildings that are closed to the public. While the Lady is only very rarely seen in the surrounding towns and villages, she does like to visit the theatre in Mossgate. If asked if she doesn't feel lonely, Lady Margaret usually laughs and points out that the house ghost keeps her company.
Sports
Mossgate has a professional football team, Mossgate United, who play in League Two and have a stadium much like this one. Back in the 1950ies, they made it into the then-highest league of English football (the Championship) and people are still talking about that. A surprisingly large percentage of players in the team have roots in Moss Manor.
It also has Rugby club, Mossgate RFC, that plays in the London & South East Premier. A surprisingly large amounf of players has roots in Folkton.
There is also a recreational Cricket team, Tarwich Cricket Club, that plays in the Kent Cricket League and a golf course. Other sports are of course available in Mossgate as well.
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Gossip
Affiliated player characters: NPC Stewart Fairhurst is this kid's father.
Storytime:
As commanding officer of the RAF Air Station, Stewart Fairhurst is a person of minor public interest. Sadly, most of this interest is these days facilitated by his fourteen year old son Harry, who seems to have fallen in with the wrong crowd, some fifteen and sixteen year old lads with bad ideas. This began about a year ago and within the last twelve months Harry has been caught shoplifting three times (or at least three times that his parents were called in to get him), participated in three cases of taking people's cars on joyrides (since he was the youngest in the group and nobody got hurt, he only got cautions for that), and also been caught with weed (by some of the air force men working under his dad, no less). Word on the street has it that he's very close to being sent off somewhere, though it is unclear where and what that "somewhere" is exactly.
History
Affiliated player characters: N/A
Storytime: In the Roman museum as well as in the Roman section of the town museum, the letter with the first mention of the River Moss can be found, dated to ca. 50-70 AD. It is a long, rambling private letter from a Roman centurion entrusted with the power to survey and improve the forming administrative and military matters of southeastern Britannia.
He seems to not have had a good time, because the whole letter is a single annoyed rant. It reads as follows:
Aulus Pullo to his beloved Livia. Greetings!
Now I've been in this country for almost five months, and nothing, absolutely nothing, has endeared me to it. The rain seems eternal, the sea is cold and grey, and when it does not rain the sky is still closed to me and thick with clouds. Oh how I long to be with you again under the sweet, warm sun of our home! Oh how I long to return!
But I cannot, and I will stand by this duty that I have been given. Which, it seems to be, is to be fruitless no matter how hard I work; for whenever I am finished in one spot and return to the city, and then later come back, all that I have implemented will be gone and they will be back to their babarian ways. The most civilized of all Britannian tribes they may be, but that only speaks exceedingly ill of the other tribes, and says nothing good about the Cantiaci! They have no culture, their records all ill-kept and their streets a single muddy puddle at most times. Why we fought so hard over this miserable land, I will never understand.
This last month, I undertook my longest trek yet down the coast, bringing me to the southern border of the territory I am to inspect. The food was terrible, the streets worse, and barely any of the locals spoke more than a word or two of Latin. I thank the gods every day, my dearest Livia, that you do not have to see this, though Lucius keeps asking me when you will follow. Never, I answer him always, never, though I miss her so, for I do not wish this misery on her!
And it is true, it is a misery. We followed down the coast, on narrow, ill-kept roads that have never seen proper roadwork or even an attempt at laying down stones to steady one's feet, inspecting settlement after settlement, outpost after outpost, trying to keep by the maps we had been given. We traversed some land and found all in order, but then the further we came, it just detoriated. Villages that were on the map did not exist, while others that did exist were not written down, we came across two pirates' nests - small, and easily exterminated! Please do not worry on my behalf, dearest Livia, Britannia lies before me pacified, and what great danger awaits is further up in the north - and then upon a stretch of land which should have been easy to cross we came upon a river. A river, Moss the locals name it, that the scouts had failed to report! And right behind, again, another village that they had reported had burned down years ago. This map, I tell you, we could just as well have gone without it.
And the food! A muddy mash, bare of taste, and the ways in which they treat fish should, I feel, be considered a criminal offence. [It follow three paragraphs that go into detail about the edible atrocities Britain has offended him with.] And to come by good wine is a miracle, and imports from Italy are rare, so rare... Oh, my dearest Livia, if you could send me some, I would be exceedingly grateful.
So as we come back, I did of course call upon all those scouts who had gathered the information for the maps, and all of them swore that all that they had not reported had not been there, villages and pirates' nests and river - hidden under all that mud and rain, perhaps, I wouldn't discount that - and mist! It is always so very misty here. You often cannot see an outstretched hand in the morning when the mist rises from the river, and then as the day continues it turns into rain.
Dreary, my dearest Livia, and I do so hope to be able to return to your side soon, away from this country of rain and into your arms.
Your dearest
Aulus Pullo